


Negative Attention

by fridgecat



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-16 18:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fridgecat/pseuds/fridgecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a lot of things that Bro does that Dave can overlook.  It doesn’t matter how many times he’s caught Bro drinking alone or how many strangers Bro brings back to his bed at night, he'll always look up to his brother.  But when Bro brings home a short boy in glasses Dave finds it hard to look the other way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally got around to posting this here. Thank you to everyone on tumblr who has been following it there! I hope it will be easier to track now that I'm posting it here. I have 4 chapters done already and will be posting one day at a time.

 It’s October 11th when you first meet John Egbert.

You don’t think much of him, not at first.  But then, you don’t normally think much of the people Bro brings home at night. 

You’re having a bad day, to be honest.  The fridge and cupboards are empty and your stomach has been protesting that all day, cramping and growling like an angry cat. 

So when the front door slams open and you hear an unfamiliar voice echoing after your brother’s rumbling tones, you’re a little more than irritated.  You had been hoping that maybe he would bring back take out or something.  But he never brings dinner and company home at the same time. 

You slide off the couch, not bothering to turn the TV off, and pad into the kitchen.  You can hear the heavy footsteps of your brother grow louder and you busy yourself with rummaging the cupboards. 

“It’s not _that_ messy,” a light voice hums from the doorway.  Sounds like Bro brought back a guy this time.  Good.  Cool.  They’re usually not as loud as the girls can be.

There’s silence for a few minutes, punctuated only by the occasional wet sounding smack.  You grimace and try to focus on reading the expiration date on the Frosted Flakes box you dug up.  It’s only been a few weeks since it was supposed to expire and that shit is always wrong anyways.  You slam the cupboard door shut and pop the box open, stuffing a hand inside to grab a fistful.  They crunch between your fingers and you spend a few moments longer than necessary crumpling the plastic. 

You’re just delaying.  Reluctantly you get to your feet and tuck the cereal box under your arm.  You toss the handful of Frosted Flakes into your mouth and chew slowly, hoping that Bro will still have his clothes on when you try and sneak past them to your room.

Keeping your head bowed low, you flash step across the living room, pointedly not looking in their direction.  You think you see Bro pushing the guy up against the wall, but you’re really trying not to pay attention.

 “Hey.”

You freeze, only a few feet from the safety of your bedroom.  “Yeah?” you say, loosening your posture into a practiced slouch.

 “What’s that you got there?”

You turn around and frown.  “What?  This?”  You jiggle the cereal box. 

Bro’s body is shielding the guy he brought back with him and you can only catch a glimpse of messy, black hair.  Bro tilts his head and you know he’s staring at you from behind his shades.  He frowns and steps back, untangling himself from the smaller body he was pressing into the wall.

The first thing you notice is how different the guy is from your brother’s typical conquests.  The people Bro brings back have always been the same, the women all curves and painted lips, the guys always dark skinned, toned, and chiseled.  This one looks almost frail.  And his teeth…

The boy glances up at you as you look him over and he flushes and stares down at his sneakers, his square framed glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.  His face isn’t so bad, you decide.

With the boy’s face more visible it strikes you how young he looks.  He stands a good foot or two shorter than Bro and his thin, lithe frame only makes him seem even smaller.  He looks like he’s your age, he can’t be any older than sixteen.  You start to frown and Bro must sense what you’re thinking for he quickly cuts in.

“That’s no proper dinner.  Go order two pizzas.”  Bro fishes in his back pocket for his wallet before tossing it to you carelessly.  He turns back to the boy and shrugs.  “My kid brother,” he grunts, sliding a hand along the boy’s hip. 

With the wallet clenched in your fist, you scramble back to the kitchen, grimacing at the wet sounds of kissing from behind your back.

 

  ~*~

 

You don’t see Bro or his new fling for the rest of the night.  Neither of them appear from Bro’s room when the pizza arrives and from the low thudding against the wall and muffled groans you don’t expect them to be out for awhile.  

Whatever.  It just means more pizza for you.  You pile three slices onto a plate before heading back to your room.  Munching on the crust first, you sink down at your desk and turn up your iTunes, drowning out the sounds from the next room over.  

No one is online but that doesn’t really surprise you.  You have an embarrassingly short contact list consisting of three people, one of whom is your brother who is clearly busy at the moment.  You’re pretty sure your two other friends are either sleeping or doing something productive with their time. 

You nibble at the end of a pizza slice and shoot a quick look over at your turntables.  You could try and smooth out that beat you’ve been working on all week.  You wheel your chair over and ignore a particularly loud thump from your brother’s room.  You really can’t wait until you’re the one bringing back dates and keeping him up at night.

The fantasy is unrealistic, even you can recognize that, but it doesn’t stop you from grinning.  You snap heavy headphones over your ears and drag your fingers across the board, turning the volume up until all you can hear is your own music.

 

~*~

 

“So how old is he?”

Bro glances up and gives you a funny look.  He’s pouring you a glass of orange juice, shaking the carton until the last drop comes out. 

You decide to make yourself clearer.  “The guy from last night. “

Bro shrugs and tosses the empty carton in the trash.  “What do you care?”  He lounges back against the counter and sips at his own glass through a neon blue silly straw. 

You’re about to tell him that the boy looked no older than you, younger even, but a stuttered yawn cuts you off before you can even began. 

“Sorry, um, can I have some water?”  The dark-haired boy is standing in the kitchen doorway, bundled up in a blanket and twisting the hem of it awkwardly.  His eyes are huge without his glasses shielding them. 

Wordlessly, your brother starts to fill up a glass.  Gratefully, the boy takes the water and gulps it down, spilling a little down his chin.  Your eyes flicker down to follow the movement.

“Um,” he clears his throat awkwardly when he’s finished then turns to you with a hesitant smile.  “I’m, uh, sorry about last night.  I mean, our introduction wasn’t really... I never got your name.”

“Dave,” Bro answers for you, leaning forward to take the glass back. 

“Oh.  Well, hi!  I’m John.”  He sticks a hand out for you to shake.   You reach out to awkwardly take his hand when he continues talking.  “So the whole wearing shades indoors like a douchebag runs in the family?  Do you guys have matching outfits too?”

You jerk your hand back as Bro lets out a loud snort from behind you.

“Forgot to warn you, he’s a smartass,” Bro says, smirking.

“Great.”  You grab your orange juice and brush past him into the living room.

“Oh, did I piss him off?” you hear John ask behind you.  He sounds confused, like he actually didn’t expect that reaction from you.  

“He’ll get over it.”

You slump down into the couch and flick on the TV, picking out the loudest and most obnoxious cartoon you can find.  Sipping idly at your drink you wonder just how long this John guy is going to hang around.  Bro usually sends them packing when he wakes up. 

“Here.  Go get me some groceries.  Pick out anything that looks good.”  You hear Bro over the TV and you can’t help but glance over your shoulder curiously.

Bro fishes through his wallet before pulling out a fat wad of twenties.  John hesitates before taking them.  “Are you sure…?” he asks slowly, eyeing the handful of cash with wide eyes.

“Let’s call it proof that I’m not full of shit.  You can use half of this on yourself.”

“What makes you think I won’t just run off with all of it?”  John lowers his voice and you can barely hear it over the TV.

Bro’s lips curl into an unfamiliar smile.  “You’re smarter than that.”

John takes the money but doesn’t return the smile.  “Right.  Let me go change first,” he mutters and spins around to scamper back to Bro’s room. 

You turn back to face the TV and pretend that you haven’t been listening as Bro slides in next to you.  The cushions dip under his weight as he snatches the remote from you and changes the channel.  “The hell is this shit you’re watching?” he mutters.

“So he’s underage _and_ your errand boy?” you blurt out and immediately regret it.

Bro pauses then turns his head slightly to peer over the rim of his shades at you.  He swings a heavy arm over the back of the couch and leans back, calculating eyes sweeping through you.   “Who said he was underage?” he asks coolly.

You press your lips into a thin line and stare hard at the screen.  You try not to squirm.  “You can’t expect me to believe that he’s-”

“That he’s what?” Bro cuts in, his voice losing its light tone, turning hard and challenging. 

You know a warning when you hear one.

You shake your head. 

“ _What_?” Bro presses you, his arm warm behind your head.

“Nothing,” you mumble into your drink.

Bro gives you a long, hard look.  “Best be getting used to him, little man.  He’s not going anywhere soon.”

You raise your eyebrows slightly but remain silent.  You can tell Bro won’t be answering any questions.

Sliding to his feet, Bro ruffles your hair.   “Don’t worry.  I’m doing him a favor.  My good deed of the year.”  Bro laughs sharply and you mentally file this under the list of things Bro does that you try not to think too much about.

 

~*~

 

The problem is, you can’t stop thinking about it.  It eats away at you like a nervous bug all afternoon.

By the time John gets back with the groceries Bro has holed himself up in his room, presumably to work. 

You watch from the couch as John struggles with the door and the several plastic bags hanging from his arms.  You think that maybe you should go help him but you still remember his snide remark from earlier so you stay where you are. 

John shuffles into the kitchen, stumbling a little as he nearly drops one of the heavier bags.  Grunting, he heaves the bags up onto the counter, cursing as a plump apple rolls out and onto the floor.

“Bro doesn’t like apples,” you say suddenly.   

“Do you?” John asks, turning around.

“No.”

John shrugs and squats down to pick the apple up.  “Guess it’s mine then,” he hums and uses his sleeve to shine the red skin. 

You watch quietly as John stands back up, carefully puts the apple aside, and starts unpacking the bags.  One by one the bags are emptied and food is tucked away into the cupboards.  You expect John to jump when a heap of plastic swords tumble out of one of the top cupboards, but he only pauses to study them curiously before continuing his work. 

“Where did Bro meet you?  A playground?” you say, not bothering to hide the slight sneer in your tone.

John throws you a scowl from over his shoulder as he shakes out the last plastic bag.  “Oh yeah.  He had this sexy white van and told me he had candy in the back.  It was Hollywood romantic.”

You almost start to smile until you remember it’s your brother he’s talking about.  “If you’re finished with your chores you can go home now.”  You’re being an asshole maybe but there’s something about John that makes you uncomfortable.  It might have something to do with the fact that your older brother is fucking him and he looks like he could be one of the kids who sits in the front row during your math class.

“What?  I can’t hang around?” John snips.

“No.”

John seems to deflate for a moment, leaning back against the counters and fiddling with his glasses.  He looks up at you after a moment and frowns.  “I must have made a worse first impression than I thought,” he mumbles.

You can’t help but snort.  “Oh no.  Chatting it up with the dudes who suck face with my Bro is my favorite thing to do.”  You turn around to face him fully, draping your arms over the back of the couch.  “How old are you _really_?”  You try not to sound as awkward as you feel when you ask the question.  You hope Bro is busy working like he said he would be half an hour ago.

John flinches back like you slapped him.  “Eighteen,” he says, a little too quickly.

 “Bullshit.”

“Just because I’m short-”

“Bull.  Shit,” you cut him off impatiently.  “How old.”  You’re really hoping that he’s not any younger than you are.  Really, really hoping.  You’re not sure what you will do if he’s under fifteen. 

John is silent for a long moment.  His eyes are darting around the room nervously and you know he’s regretting not leaving sooner.  “Does it really matter?” he asks, his voice almost a whine.

You raise your eyebrows in disbelief.  “Of course it fucking matters.”

“Dirk said-”

“He was drunk, shit faced… whatever.”  You pull yourself up and slide over the back of the couch.  “Hell, he could’ve been high too.”  You walk over to John, your confidence growing with each word.  “You get the point I’m making here?”  You jab a finger at John’s chest, making him shrink back against the counter.

“I don’t…” John starts to say but you speak over him.

“I’m _sayin’_ that he only picked you up because he was so messed up he wasn’t seeing straight.  Otherwise he would’ve seen right through your flimsy ‘I’m eighteen’ shit.”  You find yourself agreeing heartily with your own words and relief is washing down your throat like cool water.  Bro has never fucked around with minors before.  He’s always known where to draw the line.  He doesn’t get into that shit.  A one-time mistake.

“You know what, you’re right.  It doesn’t matter how old you are, just that you’re not fucking eighteen.”

John’s lips twitch into a weak, strained smile.  “So I can be nineteen then?”

Your expression must have changed suddenly because the smile is quickly slipping off his face.  “Look, he should be sobered up by now and you’re not gonna want to be around when he sees you.”  You feel like you’re telling the truth.  Bro must have still been out of it this morning, that’s happened before. 

 “I can’t go,” John says slowly, lowering his gaze.

“What?”

“I can’t,” John says again, lifting his head to peer up at you sullenly.  “At least, not until he… he promised me…” John broke off, fumbling with his words.

You lean back on your heels and sneer down at him.  “Promised you?  Promised you what?  Promised to be your boyfriend or something?”

“Money,” John blurts out, freezing your thoughts.  John lowers his head but you can still see how his cheeks are burning bright red.  Numbly, you realize he’s not just embarrassed, he’s ashamed.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> k

 

Dave’s eyes are boring into you and you realize it was a lot easier to pretend things were normal when no one looked too closely at you.  Now, Dave’s eyes are fixed on you, studying you, and you can feel your defenses being peeled away. 

 You never meant for things to get so out of control and you certainly never meant to end up in _this_ situation.  But one thing led to another.  You figure that’s just the funny way that life works.

 “It’s not what you think,” you mumble to the floor.  How convincing can you sound when you can’t even meet his gaze?  You force yourself to look up at him and you’re suddenly thankful for the sunglasses.  This way you can at least pretend he isn’t completely judging you. 

 “Money,” he repeats, tasting the words on his lips with a frown.  “He promised you money?”

 You don’t know what to say so you just nod.

 He turns around and swears, running a hand through his hair.  “You’re lying,” he says.

 “Why would I lie about that?”  You wish you had been lying.

 Dave turns back to face you, his frown changing to an angry scowl.  “My brother doesn’t do that.  He doesn’t _need_ to.”  He grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you until your teeth rattle.

 “It’s not… not entirely what you think!”  You press your hands against his chest and shove him with a hard push.  He wobbles for a moment before regaining his balance, lips twisted into a snarl. 

 “Oh yeah?  It sounds like you’re accusing my bro of-”

 “I’m not accusing him,” you snap, raising your voice.  “I’m really not,” you say again, in a lower tone.  You look away, the anger ebbing away into exhaustion.  You don’t blame Dirk for your problems; you don’t blame anyone. 

 You raise your hands in surrender.  “Look, I get it.  You think I’m trying to get your brother into some sort of trouble.  I would think that too if I was you.”

 Dave snorts but he isn’t interrupting you. 

 “I like your brother.  No, really, I do!”  You can read the disbelief in the curl of Dave’s mouth.  “I asked him for help and we came to… an agreement.”  It takes you a moment to find the right words and even then they still sound off. 

 Dave’s giving you a cold look, weighing your words, and you can’t help but shiver because didn’t Dirk give you the same exact look when you first went to him?

 You take a deep, steadying breath.  “I swear, I’m not here to screw Dirk over.  I’d be screwing myself over if I did that,” you add on in a lower mumble.  Dave isn’t saying anything and you can feel the awkward silence crowd between you like smoke.  You slip around him and clear your throat.

 “So, uh, let’s just stay out of each other’s way and I’m sure we can get along fine!”  You try and laugh to lighten the air but it comes out stilted and fake.  Cheeks flushed red, you duck down and retreat to Dirk’s room, leaving Dave alone with his thoughts.

 

~*~

 

Dirk merely laughs when you tell him what happened.  He’s lounging at his desk, fiddling with wires and metal. 

“Overprotective little shit,” he chuckles, setting the equipment aside.  He leans back and cracks his neck before patting his knee. You hesitate a second before shuffling forward and sliding into his lap.

A strong arm curls around your waist, pulling you back against a hard chest.  “Don’t worry about it.  He’ll get used to you,” Dirk murmurs in your ear, settling his chin on your shoulder.

You squirm uneasily, eyes flickering to the door.  “He thinks I’m a…” you trail off.  You can’t even say it out loud.

You don’t need to say it, Dirk understands immediately.  He shrugs and pulls back slightly, reaching around you towards his computer.  He flicks the wireless mouse and the screensaver dissolves as the computer hums awake.  “Doesn’t matter what he thinks.”

“Easy for you to say,” you mumble and feel the gloved hand over your hip tightens slightly. 

“You’re free to back out,” Dirk reminds you, his tone light. 

You bite your lip and hastily shake your head, melting back into his arms.  “No… no, I’m grateful.  Really.”

He hums in response and you can feel the slight stubble along his chin scratch at the back of your neck.  “Have you talked to Jake today?” he asks, tone casual even as he slides a hand up your shirt.

You shake your head again.  “He’s been busy.  Job interviews.”  You stifle a gasp as he traces a finger across your nipple.  He laughs softly and you can feel it rumble through his chest.  He presses a light kiss under your ear and pulls his hand back, smoothing out the wrinkles in your shirt.  

“He’ll be calling you tonight though.  I can bet you that.”  He pauses, his attention drifting back to the computer screen.  “What are you going to tell him?”

You rest your head back against his shoulder and watch as Dirk skims through his e-mail.  “That I’m settling in just fine.  That you’re letting me stay in a spare bedroom.  That you got me a part time job-”

“Part time job where?”

“The uh…”

“The DVD library down the street.”  Dirk glances at you, raising his eyebrows.

“The DVD library down the street,” you repeat until he nods.

“And…?”

“And you…. Got me a bunch of new school supplies that I needed?”

Dirk nods again and pats you on the thigh.  Like a good little puppy, you think bitterly to yourself, but quickly push the thought away. 

“Don’t you think that sounds kind of… I dunno… too much?” you say after a minute.

“What does?”

“The whole buying me school stuff.  I mean, is that something you would even do?”  You don’t mean to sound skeptical but it’s hard to picture Dirk shopping for school supplies.

He shrugs.  “It’s what I mean to do.”  He sees your expression and chuckles.   “And by that I mean I’m gonna give you money and you’re going to buy whatever shit you need.”

You smile faintly because borrowing textbooks and pens every week is stretching thin.  “Thanks.”

Dirk rubs your hip before pushing you back to turn you around in his lap so that you’re facing him.  This isn’t the first time he’s had you like this, but it still makes your heart pick up and thrum wildly in your chest. 

He grins and his fingers curl around the back of your neck dragging you forward until your breaths mingle. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” you ask, trying not to sound flustered.  He smalls faintly of cologne and smoke and you wonder how someone can smell so distinctly male.

“I’m not allowed a break?”

You shrug, your eyes flicker to the door.  Dirk catches the slight movement and sighs, pulling back with an irritated scowl.  “What is it?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly.

“Is it because Dave’s here?  He was here last night too, you know.”  Dirk slides his hand down from your neck, tracing the bumps of your spine through the thin material of your shirt.

“I know.”  It’s irrational, you know.  But it feels different now, knowing that Dave knows the real reason why you’re here.  It took you a month to fight down your pride and agree to this and now suddenly the itch of shame is back and crawling at your insides. 

Dirk rolls his eyes and pulls you into an impatient kiss.  Automatically, your arms swing up to loop around his neck.  It’s not unpleasant, you tell yourself.  It feels kind of good actually.  You haven’t kissed anyone before Dirk but you can guess that he’s skilled.  It still feels just as scary, just as exciting, as the very first time he kissed you.

You pull back and slide your palms over his cheeks.  Your hands are shaking slightly from nerves.

You remind yourself that it could always be worse.  It’s not like you’re being forced into bed with someone old (well, older) or someone ugly.  You’ve seen things like that in movies so you think you can count yourself lucky that Dirk’s attractive.

You trace the strong lines of his jaw and he smirks at you, lips quirked.  Maybe more than just attractive.  You’ve seen the way girls (and guys) act around him.  You know he could do better than a scrawny kid like you, without even needing to flash his money. 

You let him drag you into another kiss, rougher this time, and try to calm the tremor racing through your body.

His tongue presses into your mouth, past your lips, and shyly you press back.  He tastes sharp, like mouthwash, smoke, and metal.  His teeth nip at your lower lip, tug once, before he pulls away, his breath fanning across your wet lips. 

He’s breathing harder now and you can feel him hard against your thigh.  You try not to feel self-conscious when you wiggle in place, grinding down against him.  He sighs and reaches up to take your smaller hands in his, leading them down to his belt. 

You fumble with the belt for a minute, hands shaking even harder than before.  It shouldn’t be a big deal.  Not after last night, you tell yourself.  But last night was different.  Last night your nerves had been smoothed over by a cool drink with a strong taste.  You don’t have anything to numb your apprehension this time. 

But Dirk is watching you, his eyes lidded but focused behind his shades.  He strokes his thumb over the back of your hand, a soothing gesture.

Strangely enough, that small touch comforts you.  You unbuckle his belt and push it aside to slide the zipper of his jeans down.  Your fingers wiggle into the slip of his boxers to wrap around warm flesh and-

You jump when your phone jerks to life in your pocket, thrumming loudly through your shorts.  Shooting a wide-eyed look at Dirk you wait until he grunts and nods before slipping it from your pocket.

“It’s Jake…”

Dirk hisses a curse but waves a dismissive hand at you.  “Pick it up.  He won’t stop calling until you do.”  He pushes you from his lap and pushes his cap back with a groan.

Relief and disappointment flood you as you stumble into a corner of the room.  “Jake?” you answer, leaning back against the wall.

“Hey, chap!  Thought I’d ring you and see how you were holding up!”  Jake tends to talk louder than necessary when he’s on the phone and you have to hold it a few inches from your ear.

“Oh yeah, everything’s great!”  You hope you don’t sound out of breath.

Jake’s laugh booms across the line.  “Splendid!  Truly splendid news, John!  And I trust that my pal Dirk has settled you in? He’s a grade A pal, but he does tend to make people a tad uncomfortable at times…”

“Oh no!  It’s fine.  He um… he’s letting me stay in the spare room.  Let me set up my stuff and everything.  He’s even uh, helped me get a part time job!”  Dirk is busying himself on the computer but you know he’s listening.

“Oh, well, it sounds like he’s doing a real bang up job!  That’s fantastic news.  I have to say, John, I was a little worried how you two would get along.”  Jake chuckles and you try and laugh too.  It always feels wrong to lie to Jake who will believe just about anything you tell him.

Jake is silent for a short moment and in that pause you find yourself seized with panic.  Can he tell that something’s off?  Did he notice anything funny about your voice?

“John, I truly am sorry for all of this.  I know you’re doing the best you can in the midst of all this rubbish and I honestly admire you for it.  I promised your father I’d look out for you and, damn it, I mean to do just that!”

“Jake, stop.  It’s not-”

“It was beastly of me to leave you with my friend, no matter how swell of a guy he is.  It’s irresponsible of me and I promise that the minute I get a steady job I’ll-”

“Jake!”  You have to raise your voice to an almost shout to get him to hear you.  “It’s really fine!  Don’t worry about me.  Just focus on your interviews and stuff.  I’m doing fine here.  Dirk’s even getting me a whole bunch of new school supplies.”

“Is he?  I knew I could trust that fellow.  He has a little brother around your age I believe?”

“Uh, yeah.  We met today.”  And he thinks I’m a whore and he’s not totally wrong, you silently add.

“A chance to make a new friend,” Jake chirps, sounding pleased.  “This could be a real adventure for you John.  Just remember that this isn’t permanent… I haven’t abandoned you by any means.” 

You grip the phone tighter.  “Yeah, I know.”

He sighs and his breath rattles across the line.  “Right-o.  I won’t chat your ear off.  Tell Dirk I say hello!”

“I will.”

“And thank him for me, will you?”

You glance over and notice that Dirk is watching you now, his hat and shades set aside on the desk.  “I will.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

You try not to think about the things John said to you.  You tell yourself that he was just messing with you, trying to screw with your head.

But the shame flushed across his face had been so real, so genuine. 

You promise yourself that you’ll ask Bro about it later.  You don’t care (not really) if he gets angry.  You need answers to this.

You nest yourself into a corner of the couch and let the TV play a string of crappy game shows, the kind that are so obviously staged that it's almost cringe inducing.  With the volume as loud as you dare, you le the bright colors from the TV start to blur together and your thoughts drift.

The sky outside is dark by the time Bro emerges from his room, a black tote slung over his shoulder.  He nods in your direction as he heads over to the fridge, rummaging around for a beer. 

“Got a gig tonight.  Order Chinese or something.” He slaps two twenties down on the counter. 

You can’t help but notice that his hair is ruffled and out of place under his cap. 

“Yeah.  Whatever,” you mumble.

Bro takes a deep sip from his beer and grabs his keys, shoving them in his back pocket.  He looks you over with raised eyebrows.  “What’s wrong with you?”

“Is he staying?”  You try not to sound like a whiney kid but the look Bro gives you immedietly makes you feel like one.

He's silent for a moment before he snorts and turns away, taking one last heavy swig of beer until the can is empty.  “Told ya, he’s gonna be around for awhile.”  He crushes the beer can and tosses it to the side where it clatters along the floor.  He shoots you another hard look before disappearing out the door, leaving you sullen and grumpy.

You don’t move for a couple of minutes, not until your stomach growls angrily at you.  Reluctantly you pull yourself from your warm spot on the couch and trudge to the kitchen counter where stacks of take out menus are piled.

You hear soft footsteps behind you but you pointedly don’t turn to acknowledge it.  You don’t want to look at John again because you know you’ll start wondering and doubting.  You’re pretty sure Bro would laugh at you if he knew how much this was bothering you.  Hell, you kind of feel like laughing at yourself for being so lame.  If Bro is cool with it then you should be too, right? 

“What are you ordering?” John asks slowly.           

“Chinese,” you say after a short pause.  You flatten out a stained, wrinkled menu and slip your cell phone from your back pocket.  You can feel John’s eyes on you and it almost makes you start squirming.   You turn and toss him the menu without meeting his eyes.

John studies it as you trudge back to the couch.  “Can I get the lo-mein?” he asks hesitantly.

There’s a funny waver in his voice and it strikes you that John might be just as uncomfortable around you as you are around him, perhaps even more.  You sit up to peek at him over the back of the couch.  He’s still staring down at the menu, his lower lip pulled between his teeth as he skims through the appetizers. 

He looks up suddenly and flushes when he catches you staring.  “Uh, never mind.  I shouldn’t have assumed, I mean…. It’s okay.  I’m not hungry.”  He waves his hands and hastily tosses the menu back onto the counter, like it was burning him just to touch it.

“What?  No.  It’s fine.”

“No, really, I don’t need anything,” he insists, backing up.

You start to scowl.  “It’s not a big deal.  It’s take out, not, like, a feast with fuckin' virgins in swishy dresses serving us on golden plates.” 

The corners of John’s mouth twitch.  “No golden plates?  You sure?”  He still sounds nervous but at least he’s looking less like a deer about to bolt.

“Yeah.  You wanted that noodle stuff?” 

He nods hesitantly.

You turn around as you unlock your phone screen.  From the corner of your eye you watch John shuffle around the room, picking up the discarded beer cans and empty pizza boxes.  He spends a minute looking around for the trashcan and you can’t help but notice the way his eyebrows knot in concentration as he does this. 

He breathes out when he finally finds the trash hidden under the kitchen counter.  He struggles with the pizza box but eventually manages to fold it and cram it into the small bin. He claps his hands against his pants then looks up at you, blinking curiously when he sees you watching him.

Hastily you turn away, feeling a surge of relief when the restaurant finally picks up and asks for your order.

You try not to watch John as you give the order but it’s hard not to.  He’s tiptoeing around the room, studying everything with a strange curiosity.  He reminds you of a rabbit or a mouse put in a new cage, sniffing timidly at everything.

When you finish the order and get off the phone John looks up at you with wide eyes.  “You have a huge DVD collection!  And, whoa, look at all these video games!”

You shrug.  “My brother sometimes does game reviews so we get a lot of that stuff.” 

He drags his finger along the spines of the cases and crouches down in front of the shelf to get a better look.  His head tilts to the side to read some of the titles as he rocks back on his heels.

“Oh man, I always wanted to see this one!”  You can’t tell if he’s talking to himself or to you so you merely grunt in response.

Gingerly, he slides a DVD out and stares at the cover.  You shift in place, lifting your head slightly to try and glimpse over his shoulder.  You can’t help but snort.  “Ghosts of Girlfriends Past?  Are you serious?”

John looks over at you and huffs.  “What?”

“That movie sucks.”

“You’re the one who owns it!”

“My bro gets all kinds of shitty movies.  He has like a whole shitty movie collection.  Doesn’t watch it himself just likes to showcase it I think.  Like some kind of weird trophy that he can-” you break off, suddenly uncomfortable with how easily you’re talking.

John seems to pick up on your tension, for the smile that started to form across his face fades quickly.  He looks down and fiddles with the movie case.  He starts to slide the DVD back, muttering quick apologies to you.  He gets to his feet and looks around, shuffling awkwardly in place. 

There’s something sad about the way he’s glancing around the room and avoiding your gaze.  You sigh and pat the cushion next to you.  “I never said you couldn’t watch it.”

“What?”

“Watch it.”

He hesitates, looking from the movie cases then back to you, eyebrows furrowing suspiciously.  “You mean I can?” he asks carefully.

“Isn’t that what I just said?” you grumble.

He blinks then beams at you, plucking the movie back up and hopping over to the DVD player.  “And you’ve even got an awesome flat screen to watch it on!  I’ve never seen a movie on a screen this big.  Well, except at the movie theaters, but that’s different.”  He’s chattering away now like nothing just happened and you wonder if you made a mistake.  You don’t want him to get the wrong idea and think that you’re trying to be friends now. 

John wiggles and tilts his head at the DVD player, fingers hovering over the buttons. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to play a movie,” you sneer.

John shoots you a look.  “Of course I do, asshole!  It’s just…” he trails off, flushing slightly.  “This is really different from the one I used to have.  It’s really… I don’t know… over complicated and what are all these buttons for anyway?”

You shrug.  “It’s the real deal.  State of the art and shit.”  At least that’s what Bro told you.  You slide off the couch and kneel down next to John in front of the TV.  You try to ignore the way John tenses when you take the movie from him. 

You push your shades down the bridge of your nose and fiddle with a few buttons until the disc tray pops open.  “Just like that,” you say.

John blinks then laughs lightly.  “Wow you almost make it look easy.” 

Your lips start to twitch into a smile before you turn away.  “Yeah, well, enjoy your movie.”

John pauses.  “You’re not… going to watch it too?”  He sounds almost disappointed.

“I’ve got stuff to do,” you say after a moment.  You feel a strange rush of relief and guilt when John simply nods in response.  You slink away, back to your room, and try not to think about how much John looked like you in that moment, curled up and small (alone) on the couch.

 

~*~

 

It’s around 4 am when you get back home.  The lights are all out and the empty cartons of Chinese food scattered across the coffee table tells you that both kids ate.  At least you hope they both did.  You kick off your sneakers into a corner of the room and more carefully deposit your bag of gear on the couch.  A movie case is lying open on the cushions and you pick it up, taking a moment too long to read the title.  You let out a sharp bark of laughter.  Unless Dave had been really bored you assume that John must have the same bad taste in movies as his cousin does. 

You chuckle and toss the movie aside.  It’s almost pitch black with your shades on but you know your place well enough to move around without bumping into anything. 

A quick peek into Dave’s room tells you that he fell asleep at his laptop.  You snort and move on to your room. 

You start to flick on the light when you see a small lump huddled in your blankets.  John is bundled up against your pillow, his glasses set aside and his hair tousled from sleep.  He looks even younger when he’s sleeping and for a minute you feel something cold twist deep in your gut.

But then he’s stirring, stretching out and lifting his head, as if the weight of your gaze woke him.  He blinks, eyes adjusting slowly to the darkness.

“Dirk…?” he asks hesitantly, voice thick from just waking up.  The blue of his eyes cut through the dark  as he turns his head in your direction.

Heat chases away the hollow guilt and you push off from the doorframe into the room.  “Yeah, s’me.”  You close the door behind you with a soft click and move towards the bed slowly, being careful of the wires strewn across the floor.

“What time is it?” John asks, stifling a yawn. 

“Late.”  Your hat and shades come off and John catches the motion and sits up straighter.

He scoots over for you and wiggles his legs out of the sheets. 

“Good boy,” you murmur.  You slide onto the bed, the mattress sighing under the added weight.  Lightly, you press down on his shoulder, pushing him back down.  He goes boneless under you; his breathing is slow and deep like he’s still sleeping.

Wordlessly you reach into your back pocket and pull out a crumpled set of bills.  Even in the dark you can catch the flinch that flashes across his face.  His mouth twists at the corners and his eyes narrow slightly. 

He takes the money anyway.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he whispers as you bend down to graze your lips down his neck.

“Do what?”

“Throw money at me right before.”

“You don’t want it?”

“No, but it kills the mood,” he mumbles and squirms under your hands.

You laugh and roll your shoulders, sitting up to pull your shirt over your head.  “Alright fine.  I’ll do it after from now on.  Better?”  You take one of his hands and lift it until his fingers are brushing down your sides. 

He bites his lip and nods before wiggling out of his own shirt, cheeks going red under your stare.  “Better,” he agrees. 

You can’t help yourself, not with all that skin revealed to you.  You lean down and trail your tongue over a nipple, sliding a gloved hand down his smooth chest to his stomach.  You shift him slightly so that his body is molded into yours, his back arched so he’s pressed flush against you.  He looks so small like this, like he could drown in your arms.  That thought sends another wave of heat through you.

You muffle a groan in his shoulder and run a hand down his leg, hitching it up over your hip.  John’s breath is coming faster now, sharp little puffs against your ear.

You grind down against him and relish the gasp that escapes his lips.  His arms lock around your neck and he leans up to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck and- fuck- he’s so warm, so hot that he’s radiating heat and it’s making you start to sweat already. 

John’s narrow hips buck up against yours, rocking forward, and you can feel how hard he is through the thin material of his boxers.  You smirk against his skin and dig your fingers under him to cup his rear and push him up against you more. 

His head falls back with a soft moan, eyelids drooping, and the temptation to fuck him grows stronger, harder to ignore.  But you can’t, or at least you shouldn't.  He has school in the morning and, damnit, there’s no way you would be able to go gently.

You settle with gripping his hips tight enough to bruise and rock against him, mouthing breathless curses against his throat. 

He whines and claws at your back, your hair, and it only makes you growl and thrust harder against him.  “Fuck, kid, you’re a natural at this.”

He nods frantically, his eyes squeezed shut, and you can feel his whole body tensing under you.  He arches sharply and digs his fingers into your shoulders and cries out.  He shivers and slumps against you, completely limp as you flip him over onto his stomach.  He grunts softly as you start to grind against his rear, his body rocking forward slightly from the forceful motions of your hips.  Your body curves over his as you groan low in his ear, sucking in a sharp breath as your climax closes in on you.  Your hips jerk once, twice, before you're spilling into your boxers, still rubbing lazily against him. 

 He moans quietly as you sag against him and you realize numbly that you may be crushing him.  Kissing his shoulder, you roll off him and pull him back until he’s tucked under your chin.

“Not bad, huh, kid?”

 He doesn’t say anything so you pat his side and nudge him towards the edge of the bed.  “Go clean up.  Pretty sure you don’t want to sleep in your own jizz.”

He makes a face at you and scurries out of bed, peeling off his wet boxers and crumpling them up into a ball.  You yawn and roll over onto your back, slipping your own soiled pants off as you listen to him rummage in his bag for a new, clean pair. You kick your clothes off the bed and pull the sheet up to your waist.

You tell yourself that you’re not a bad guy.  John can back out of this anytime he wants to and, really, you’re doing this to help him.  You have people practically throwing themselves into your bed.  He needs the money, money that you happen to have.  And the kid enjoys it, fucking laps it up every time. 

John trips over something (hopefully not one of your more expensive equipments) and you snort.

You’re not a bad guy.  You tell yourself this again as John slips back into bed with you.  You curl an arm around his thin waist and tug him closer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short chapter

It’s been three weeks since you met John.  He’s settled into the apartment and spends most of his time in Bro’s room.  On weekdays he goes to school with you.  Sometimes you see him in the cafeteria, eating quietly by himself.  You would laugh at him but you sit by yourself too.

A few times he doesn’t come home right away after school.  You’re not sure where he goes or what he does (and you tell yourself you don’t care) but he always shows up again before Bro gets home.

With John around, Bro doesn’t bring back one-night-stands anymore. Bro comes back just a bit earlier each night from his gigs.  It makes something unpleasant twist inside you to know that Bro comes home early for John, not for you, but you always push that thought away when it pops up. 

There are actually some good things about having John around.  He keeps the refrigerator stocked, something you and Bro were both always too lazy and forgetful to really do.  He cooks dinner sometimes and you’ve long given up on pretending that you prefer takeout. 

In a weird way you’re getting used to John’s presence.  It still makes you uncomfortable sometimes, but that feeling is getting easier and easier to ignore now. 

In fact, though you would never admit this out loud, you’re kind of, maybe, starting to enjoy the company. 

Tonight John’s making dinner again, pasta or something.  He’s bustling around the kitchen, stepping carefully over the piles of swords cluttered around the cabinets.  You can smell the tomato sauce cooking and it’s making your mouth water. 

You started off watching TV but it wasn’t long before you found yourself swiveled around on the couch to watch John. 

John isn’t particularly graceful in the kitchen, that’s for sure.  He drops things and knocks things over constantly.  His glasses get fogged up when he leans over the stove to check the pasta and you can’t help but snigger at what a complete dork he is.  You don’t understand how Bro’s attracted to this kid.

He pauses and looks up at you suddenly, his glasses still misty from the steam.  He laughs sheepishly and slides them off, pinching his shirt between his fingers to rub at the lenses.  “Were you watching me the whole time?” he asks, incredulous.

You scowl.  “No.”

“You totally were!”

“That’s stupid.”  You turn back around to the TV but you can practically feel John’s gloating smirk anyway.

“Wow, Dave, you must be really hungry!  Good thing I made a lot, huh?” 

You don’t respond but he doesn’t seem to care.  You hear the click of the stove being turned off followed by the rattle of plates. 

“Someone should also get off their fat ass and help me serve dinner if they’re so hungry,” he calls out.

You roll your eyes but get up anyway.  You feel awkward when he serves you dinner anyway.  It’s too much like getting waited on and that’s just… weird. 

The two of you fall quiet when you enter the kitchen.  You start to wonder when the silences between you and John stopped being awkward.  You don’t dwell on the thought and focus instead on draining the noodles in the sink while John looks for clean forks. 

“Are you done doing that?  Here, hand it over.”  He nudges you aside and takes the pot from you.  “You suck at serving even portions.”

“I don’t.”

“Yeah right!  You always give yourself the most.”

You scoff and start to reply when the front door slams open, cutting you off.  You both look up quickly, startled.  It’s not the noise that surprises you though.  The sound of the door crashing open is as familiar to you as the squeaky floorboard right outside your room.  You can’t even count how many times you’ve been woken up by that sound.  What you’re not familiar with is it happening anytime before midnight.

The door rattles shut before Bro appears in the kitchen doorway, a black bag swung over his broad shoulder.  He looks from you to John to the pasta about to be served. 

“You’re back early,” John remarks, voicing your thoughts.

Bro shrugs.  “Guess so.”  He drops his bag and pulls a chair out at the table.  You stare.  Bro almost never eats at the table.  He either takes his meals back to his room or eats with you on the couch in front of the TV.  He looks funny sitting at the table, like the furniture is suddenly several sizes too small.  He raises his eyebrows and leans back in his seat.  “Gonna eat or what?”

John blinks slowly before turning back around to hastily fumble for a third plate.  

You watch silently as John serves Bro a plate.  It’s subtle, but you catch the way Bro drags his fingers over John’s arm as John pulls away. 

That uncomfortable, nagging feeling returns, squirming deep in your gut.  All too quickly, you’re reminded of the real reason why John is here.  You lower your gaze and turn back around to serve yourself a plate. 

Behind you, you can hear Bro murmuring something to John in a low tone.  You take your dinner and spin around, flash stepping out of the kitchen, back to your room.

 

~*~

 

“Don’t worry about him.”

You look up and bite your lower lip.  Dirk is watching you from across the table, absently twirling a fork in his pasta.  He sighs when he catches your expression and sets his fork down.

“Seriously.  He’ll get used to it.”  Dirk lowers his shades and peers at you from over the rim.  It’s always unsettling when he looks at you like that, like his eyes are boring into you and taking apart your private thoughts. 

You nod and direct your gaze back down to your plate, poking a meatball with your fork unhappily.

“John.  Hey.”

You look back up and reluctantly meet Dirk’s eyes.  “Sorry…” you mutter.  “It’s just…” you trail off when Dirk gives you a blank look.

“Just what?” he prompts you.

You squirm under his stare.  You don’t know how to explain it to Dirk, you’re not even sure _you_ understand it entirely.  In the beginning you just didn’t like the fact that someone else knew about your real relationship with Dirk.  Now… now you know Dave better, know him as Dave instead of just Dirk’s brother, and you thought that would make the situation less awkward, more tolerable, but wow, you were wrong. 

You slump and shake your head.  “It’s nothing.”

“He still givin’ you a hard time about it?  I can-”

“No.  No, uh, really, it’s fine.”

Dirk’s expression is unreadable when he pushes his chair back and gestures you over. 

With a sigh you abandon your plate of food (it was starting to get cold anyway) and slip out around the table.  You move to stand in front of him and he tugs you closer until you’re standing between his legs. 

You feel his hand, heavy and warm against your back.  It reminds you a little of when you were a lot younger and your dad would rub your back when you got sick.  You wonder if that’s totally wrong and gross to think about right now.  It probably is, but you find comfort in it anyway. 

You let him pull you closer until you’re leaning into him, your head propped up against his shoulder.  He doesn’t do anything else, just holds you there and rubs your back in slow circles.

You’re not really sure if he’s trying to comfort you at all, or if he’s just tired and wants you near him. 

After a moment he sighs and you can smell the faint trace of beer on his breath.  It’s only when his hand drifts down your back to your hip that you jolt back, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

You stare at him and he stares back at you with a heavy frown.

“Oh… Fuck, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to… I was spacing out and… sorry,” you stammer out, blushing harder at how lame you are sounding.  You stare down at the floor, at your bare toes, and bite your lip.

You can feel his gaze on you and you know he’s annoyed, you can feel it in his silence.  After a moment he shrugs and turns back to his dinner.  “S’fine, kid.”

You can hear the dismissal in his tone and quickly turn to leave the room.  Your stomach is still growling but you can eat later.  You need to puzzle out what just happened first.

You haven’t flinched away from Dirk since… since the first three days since you got here.  You’ve gotten used to being with him, touching him, being touched by him.  Sometimes, most of the time, you even enjoy it. 

Maybe Dirk just surprised, you had been kind of zoning out there.  Zoning out, remembering things that were probably best left untouched, at least for as long as you stayed here. 

You pass Dave’s room and for a brief moment you consider knocking on the door, inviting yourself inside.  You actually pause and stare at the door and try to play the scene out in your head. 

Dave would open the door, confused, but maybe he’d let you in.  Maybe he would finally take you up on that movie offer and you two could sit and watch movies on his laptop.  He would pretend that his older brother wasn’t paying you for your body and you could pretend that, maybe, you had a friend.

You stare at the shut door for another minute before shaking the thought away and heading back to Dirk’s room.

You think you’ll go to bed early tonight.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long delay... and for any typos I missed

 

This is the first time you’ve seen John cry.

Except, he’s not _really_ crying, not exactly.  He’s breathing in that quick, shuddering way like he’s about to cry, but no tears are actually falling. 

He’s sitting on the floor, squeezed between the couch and the coffee table with his legs pulled up tight against his chest.  His chin is set on his knees and he’s staring blankly ahead, eyes big and wet.

He’s in the middle of _your_ living room, but you still feel like you’re the one intruding. 

He hasn’t noticed you yet and you wonder how quickly you can sneak back to your room without alerting him to your presence.  You wanted a glass of water, but you guess that can wait.

But for whatever reason, you can’t move.  Your feet are glued to the floorboards and your whole body is frozen in place.  You feel like everything is suddenly ten times louder and you can hear the apartment breathing shallowly around you.  You can hear the pipes mumble in the walls, Bro turning restlessly in sleep back in his room, John hiccupping as he chokes back his tears.

John wraps his arms tight around his knees and buries his face in his arms.  His shoulders shudder and you think, _now_ , now he is going to cry.

But when he lifts his head his face is dry.  He blinks back his tears and wipes at the edges of his eyes carefully before breathing in a sharp, shuddering breath.  An uncomfortable prickling slides under your skin and you realize numbly that watching someone try not to cry is so much worse than seeing someone actually cry.

Quietly, you turn away and creep back to your room. 

 

~*~

“And then she just let his body go.  She had to, you see, but the worst part was when the sharks-”  John is babbling about another bad movie and Bro is simply nodding his head, humming in agreement whenever John pauses to catch his breath.  He’s pretty obvious that he’s barely paying attention, but John doesn’t seem to mind.  He seems satisfied with Bro’s half-hearted grunts as replies and promptly dives into a detailed symbolic analysis about sharks or fish or some shit.  You’re not really sure what he’s going on about but you can’t stop watching him.

You can’t stop looking at him now, smiling and chattering away, and comparing it to how you saw him last night.  You wonder if Bro knows, because Bro tends to somehow know everything.

John nudges Bro to get his opinion and Bro shrugs as he flips through the channels on the TV.  You can’t tell if he’s watching John or the TV and you definitely can’t tell if he knows.  You’ve never been able to read Bro the way he can read you.

You watch them from over the top of your DS, tilting your head carefully so that it looks like you’re still fully focused on your game.  You’re honestly not sure how Bro would react if he knew John was upset about something.  You guess it would have to depend on what he was upset over.  Your eyebrows knit together.  You’re not even sure what upset John last night, though you think you have an idea, an idea that’s been nibbling away at you all morning.

The answer seems pretty obvious, no matter how many times you rethink it.  Even though you sometimes catch yourself forgetting why John’s around, you’re sure he never really forgets.  It sends cold coils of tension through you to think about that, to think that John has only been pretending to enjoy himself here when, in reality, he’s been miserable and counting down the days until he can leave, and you’ve just been sitting around clueless and stupid, thinking that John existed solely to make you home cooked dinners. 

John laughs at something Bro says, snapping you momentarily out of your thoughts.  You forget to look busy and just stare openly as John scoots closer to Bro until he’s practically curled around him on the couch. 

You lower your gaze back to your game and lift the DS a bit higher. 

You hate assuming things.  Assuming things never makes for satisfying solutions, it never has that ‘aha!’ taste you get when you finally solve a tough riddle.

Maybe, he got bullied at school.  Maybe it has nothing to do with Bro or you or anything like that. 

Maybe you should stop thinking about it because now Bro is staring at you and you’re realizing that you haven’t even been pretending to play your game. 

Hastily, you start to mash a few buttons, hoping that it’ll seem like you were just being particularly thoughtful over a cut scene. 

Bro watches you for a few minutes longer and you know he’s silently questioning you.  You peek up over your shades and catch a glimpse of him wrapping an arm around John’s waist.

You shut your DS and uncurl yourself from your nested position in the armchair.  Bro and John both look up at you as you walk out, but you pretend not to notice.

It’s only until you get to your room with the door firmly shut that you relax.  You slump down at your desk and stare blankly at your computer screen.  A slideshow of your web-comic’s best moments plays across the screensaver.  You jiggle the mouse and the slideshow dissolves into your desktop. 

Distantly, you can make out John’s muffled voice, probably still going on about some crappy B movie.

You log onto Pesterchum and feel a tiny bit better when you see one of your friends is online.

 

\--turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 11:21 –

[11:21] TG: sup

[11:22] TT: Hello.  How unusual to see you up and about before noon on a weekend.

[11:22] TG: maybe im turning over a new leaf

[11:22] TG: early to bed early to rise

[11:22] TG: before you know it im gonna be volunteering at the local orphanage and soup kitchen

[11:24] TT: How exciting.

[11:24] TG: whoa slow down

[11:24] TG: i know youre excited for me but seriously simmer it down lalonde

[11:24] TT: My apologies.  I was momentarily overwhelmed by your shining example of a human being. 

[11:24] TT: Allow me to fetch my handkerchief and dab my eyes as I struggle to contain these rising emotions you have inspired within me.

[11:25] TG: sure take your time

 

You hesitate, your fingers hovering over the keyboard.  You’re probably going to regret this; in fact you’re already are.

 

[11:27] TG: can i ask a question without you getting all weird

[11:27] TT: I can’t make any promises, but I will try to restrain myself.

[11:27] TG: cool

[11:36] TT: Shall I assume this pause is due to you are laboring away, weighing each word before typing it out?  Or shall I assume that that was the extent of your hypothetical question?

[11:36] TG: chill out rose give me a minute

[11:38] TT: Dave, is this about your sexuality? 

[11:38] TG: what no fu

[11:38] TT: Just checking.

[11:38] TT: It’s been awhile since you’ve been this openly nervous.

[11:39] TG: im not nervous

[11:39] TT: You still haven’t asked me your question.

You groan and push back from your desk; letting the Pesterchum windows blink impatiently at you.  You don’t even know what you wanted to ask. 

You stare down at your keyboard and slowly drag your thumb across the spacebar.  The sound of John’s cheerful voice from the down the hall twists around the image you have of John curled up and blinking back his tears.

 

[11:41] TG: what do you do when you know someones not happy but they keep acting like everything is just dandy and it sucks cuz wow theyre actually a pretty good actor and deserve a fucking grammy

 

Rose doesn’t reply right away, giving you plenty of time to start hating yourself.  Rose is finally starting to type a reply, but now you’re not so sure if you want to see it. 

 

[11:47] TG: nevermind

[11:47] TG: i gotta go

 

\--turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 11:48 - -

 

You hear John laughing down the hall and you suddenly feel tired.  You slouch down in your chair and push your shades up to rub at your eyes.  Exhaling slowly, you switch on your music, turning it up until you can’t hear anything else.

 

~*~

 

“You okay?” Dirk asks, carding his fingers lazily through your hair.

You nod sleepily and curl in closer to him.  His arm is firm around you, keeping you clasped to his side.  He’s warm and you can’t help but sink into him.  You can feel his voice rumble through his chest when he speaks and it makes you feel like a little kid again. 

Dirk’s fingers are trailing down your neck to your back, rubbing small circles along the bumps of your spine.  He smells faintly like smoke and it sends a sharp sting of familiarity through you.

You sigh and nuzzle your face into his shoulder.  His arm tightens around you and he turns his head, his stubble scratching gently at your cheek as he leans in to trail his lips along the shell of your ear.

It sends a warm shiver through you.  You like these moments, when Dirk seems affectionate.  You can almost forget about the money.

“How’s Jake?”

You blink and lift your head too quickly, your forehead colliding with Dirk’s nose.

“Oh shit!  I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry!”  Dirk waves you off as he rubs the bridge of his nose and straightens his shades.  He withdraws his arms from around you and suddenly you feel cold.

“It’s fine.  Doesn’t hurt.”  He pulls away and stands up, readjusting his cap carefully before glancing down at you.  “I’ve got work to do.  Here.”  He fishes out a set of crumpled bills from his back pocket and holds them out. 

“Thanks,” you say quietly, folding the bills into the palm of your hand.  

Dirk nods distractedly and wanders into the kitchen.  You hear the clink of the fridge being opened as you get up.  You take a minute to stretch your legs out, shaking out the slight ache from sitting curled up for so long.  With a soft sigh you make your way down the now familiar hallway to Dirk’s room.  

You gave up weeks ago on trying to contain all of your belongings to one corner of the room.  Your clothes lie mingled with Dirk’s along the floor and your glasses case sits quietly tucked away in one of the cinderblocks supporting Dirk’s bed.  It’s strange to see your things mixed in so casually with Dirk’s bedroom.  It makes it look like you’ve always lived here.

You hunch down by the bed and tug out your duffle bag from underneath.  Rummaging through it, you push aside an old fashioned pipe and dig out a bulging, pencil pouch from the very bottom.  You give the bag a slight squeeze and listen to the satisfying crinkle it makes. 

You shake the pouch out and watch as wrinkled, crumpled bills flutter into your lap.  Trying hard to not think about how you earned each one, you smooth them out and count them up. 

Huh.

You lean back on your hands and tilt your head up.  You’ve made almost 200 dollars.  You start to smile and you’re pretty sure that’s the most you’ve ever made in your whole life. 

It’s still not enough to pay Jake back though, is it?

You slouch forward, your shoulders hunching and curling in towards yourself.  The smile fades as you try and remember just how much you owe your cousin.

You don’t even have to finish calculating to know it’s not enough.  With a frustrated groan you snatch up the wad of cash and toss it off your lap, glaring when the bills drift gently back to the floor. 

Flopping down on your back, you throw your arms over your face, covering your eyes. 

“You okay?”

You let your arm slide back off your face as you tilt your head towards the voice.  Dave is standing in the doorway, his shades low on the bridge of his nose so that you can see a faint sliver of his eyes.

“Oh… uh… yeah.”  You sit back up.  “I’m just kind of tired still.”

He doesn’t say anything and it takes you a minute to realize what he’s staring at.  Blushing furiously, you scramble to gather up the money spread out around you.  You turn away so your back is facing him as you hastily stuff the wads of cash back into the pouch. 

“Sorry about that…” you mutter, shoving the pouch away. 

“Is that all from…?” Dave starts to ask before quickly cutting himself off with a shake of his head.  “No nevermind.  Sorry.”

You think you can hear Dave shuffling awkwardly behind you, but you don’t bother looking back over your shoulder, you’re too busy staring at the floor and imagining it swallowing you.

He just had to see that, you think bitterly.  Right when you guys were starting to almost kind of start to feel like something like friends…

“Do you wanna… see a movie or something?”

You blink.  “What?”  You peek over your shoulder at him.  He’s leaning against the doorway, slouched forward in a way that almost makes him look like his brother. 

“You like movies.  We should go see one.  I guess,” he adds, shrugging stiffly.

“Netflix?”

“No, like, a movie theater.  Overpriced popcorn and shit.”

You turn around fully to face him.  “You serious?”

“Why not?  I’m bored and I haven’t gone out in forever.”  He crosses his arms then uncrosses them again, shoving his hands into his pockets instead.

A grin starts to stretch across your lips.  “Man, I haven’t been to the movies in… in… forever!” 

“It’s just a really big screen.  Try not to lose your shit over it.”

“But this is great!  What movies are out?  What did you want to see?”  You scramble to your feet and nudge your duffle bag back under the bed with your foot.

Dave shrugs.  “Don’t really care.”

“You mean you didn’t even bother checking?  Wow.”

“It was a spur of the moment decision.”

“Yeah, yeah.  I’ll do it.”  You turn towards Dirk’s computer then pause and glance back at Dave.  “Do you think… I mean shouldn’t we ask him if it’s okay?”

“Who?”

“Your brother.”

Dave scoffs and drags his fingers through his hair, pushing his bangs back from his face.  “It’s fine.  You’re only going to be on his computer for a minute.”

You shift uneasily.  “No, I mean… uh… shouldn’t we ask if we can go or not…?”  You regret saying anything before you even finish the sentence.  Dave stares at you, lips pinched into a small frown.

“We don’t need _permission_ to go see a fucking movie.  What’s he gonna do?  Sign us a pass?”  Dave tilts his head back and sneers.  You can see your faint outline reflected in his shades.

He falls silent and you think he’s staring at you, maybe waiting for you to say something.  Before you can think of anything he turns away from you.

“If you don’t wanna go you don’t have to,” he grumbles, heading back down the hallway.

You stare at the empty doorway before scrambling after him.  “Dave!  Dave, wait!”  You stumble down the hall and grab him, snatching a handful of his sleeve.  “I want to go!  I really, really want to!”

He looks down at you and you can see his eyes widening in surprise behind his shades.

“I haven’t… I used to go all the time, but I haven’t in months and…” you break off when he gently untangles your fingers from his shirt. 

“Whoa.  Chill.  It’s just a movie theater.  Not even a good one.  They got sticky armrests and everything smells like old popcorn.  Nothing to piss yourself over.” 

You flush and let your hands fall back to your sides.  “I still want to go…”  You pause and look down at your bare feet.  “And it was stupid… what I said before about asking your brother…” 

Dirk is busy anyway and you’re pretty sure he’ll be busy for the rest of the afternoon.  And it’s not like he cares what you do when he doesn’t need you.

You sigh and peek up at Dave.  “So… we can go?”

He doesn’t reply right away.  He stares at you, dark eyebrows slowly furrowing in a troubled knot.  His lips twitch and he looks away, lifting a thin wrist to nudge his shades back into place.

He nods stiffly.  “Go pick a movie.  You can use my computer.”

You break into a tentative smile before racing ahead to Dave’s room.

~*~

The movie is over too quickly.

As the ending credits roll you sink back into your seat, wishing that you could just melt down into the cracks along with the crumbs of popcorn and candy wrappers.  Dave glances over at you, his shades folded and hooked into the collar of his shirt.  His eyes are brighter than you thought they would be, brighter than Dirk’s yet somehow still a shade darker.

“Movie’s over.”

“Good observation, Dave.”

He says nothing, seemingly content with just watching the credits.  You’re relieved he isn’t rushing you back home.

“So… since I paid for your ticket I think I deserve some straightforward answers…” he says slowly, not looking at you.

You bite your lip and glance over at him.  ”Answers to what?”

“What do you think?”

You’re quiet for a moment and you wish that you still had some popcorn left.  You crinkle the empty bag in your hands.  ”One question.”

“Three.”

“One.”

“Five.”

You shoot him a look and he’s smirking.  ”Two.  And that’s all you’re getting.”  

He shrugs and unclips his sunglasses from his shirt.  ”Fair enough.”  He spends a minute wiping the lenses before carefully settling them back over his eyes.  You want to tell him that he looks like even more of a tool than usual, wearing shades in a dark movie theater, but there’s something different, something serious, about his expression that makes you hold your tongue.

“Where did you meet him?” Dave finally asks.

You don’t have to ask who he means.

You look down into your lap.  ”Through my cousin.  Nothing sketchy.”  You can still remember the day Jake introduced you to his “best buddy”.  You didn’t think much of him then and you’re sure that he didn’t think much of you either.  Things only changed after you approached him with your offer.  He looked at you differently after that.

“Does your cousin know…?”

“No,” you say sharply, brushing a few crumbs off your lap and standing up abruptly.  ”Of course not.  He wouldn’t approve.  No, he’d be furious and-“

“Then why do you-“

You hold up your hand and point two fingers at him.  ”Two questions.”

He stares at you, mouth gaping slightly before he scowls.  ”That last question doesn’t count!”

You turn away and edge out of the aisle, pocketing your hands.  ”Nope!  It counts!”  You hear Dave following after you.  You glance over your shoulder at him and offer him a toothy grin.  ”We’ll have to go to an even better movie next time if you want to ask that other question.”

“Yeah well that shouldn’t be too hard since your definition of good movies is a little more than just skewered.”

You make a show out of rolling your eyes and making a face, but your chest is tight and all you can think about is that this means it isn’t just a one time thing.  Dave is willing to see more movies with you.  You wonder how many questions of his you’ll answer before that ends. 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
